


Diplomatic Relations

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Coffee, First Contact, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-11
Updated: 2009-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee





	Diplomatic Relations

Things were getting a little iffy. Even Teyla was starting to look tense, her seemingly endless calm tightening down into rigid formality, and Ronon had started fingering the butt of his blaster in a way that had John marking whom to shoot first and exactly which exit to push Rodney through.

Rodney, of course, was escalating his rant about the critical nature, the absolute, imperative need he had to get behind the oh-so-sacred stone carved altar from which the energy signature was pulsing its sexy come-hither straight into his tricorder—

_"Oh, for God's sake stop calling it that, you pointy-eared geek."_

_"Hey, Rodney, do they call it a 'tricorder' because it records three kinds of signals, or because it has three little screens on it?"_

_"I swear I will kill you with my mind."_

—and just when John was pretty darned sure this was all going to end with blood and tears and possibly the use of the C-4 tucked in his vest pocket, Rodney stopped his ranting long enough to pull his thermos out of his pack and open it.

The scent of coffee—real coffee, thanks to a recent _Daedalus_ run—came wafting out, and John closed his eyes and sniffed jealously.

"What—what is that smell?" Prime Minister Odair said, his face losing a little of the apoplectic redness that made John think he was a step away from a McKay-induced stroke (he wouldn't be the first Head of State to be felled by Rodney's charms.)

"Coffee," Rodney said shortly. "Nectar of the Gods." He poured some into the cap that served as a cup.

Odair drifted closer. "The Gods?" It looked like he wasn't so much walking as being pulled by his nose, and John hid a grin and let his hand drop away from his P-90. Around them, the various (armed) acolytes also relaxed minutely.

Rodney did a little bit of a double-take as he caught on to Odair's interest. "Yes, it's, ah, very valuable." He sniffed, and John could see his hesitancy, could almost read the equation running through McKay's mind. _Access to altar = possible(ZPM)/beloved(Coffee)_. Rodney straightened his shoulders. "This coffee...we use it as an offering when, er, requesting the Gods' permission to access their sacred," he coughed, "mysteries."

Slowly, and really, really reluctantly, Rodney held out the stainless-steel cup. John heard Teyla make an undiplomatic noise on his right, and saw Ronon's lips twitch.

Odair took the cup, held it to his nose, and then lifted it high and turned in a circle. His voice boomed, "An offering is made of the sacred nectar, Coffee!"

"An offering!" the acolytes all cried. "An offering!"

John bit down hard.

Turning back to Rodney, Odair intoned, "In the name of the Gods, as their holy vessel, I drink of your offering, Supplicant." He lifted the cup and sipped, and his eyes widened. He drank again, more deeply, and didn't stop until his head was tilted back and he could catch the very last drops.

Rodney made a pitiful sound. John stepped on his foot.

"Your offering has been found worthy. Your petition is granted," Odair said, smiling. He waved his hand toward the altar. Rodney shrugged his backpack more firmly over his shoulder and started walking.

"I'll just hold this for you," Odair said, smoothly intercepting the thermos as Rodney passed.

Rodney froze, and for a second John was worried he might be the one to stroke out for a change. But then he gave a stiff little nod, and let go of the thermos. Odair smiled smugly and nodded him on.

John came up beside Rodney and gave him a pat on the back as they went behind the iron gate. "There's more back on Atlantis, buddy," John reassured him.

"Yes, yes, I know, but this was the good stuff! My special-ordered blend!" Rodney made that pitiful sound again, like a chew toy being squished under a tire. John gave him another pat, and then smirked at Teyla, who was trying hard not to smile.

Ronon just looked bored. Maybe he'd been hoping for the shoot-out.

It came as almost an anti-climax when twenty minutes later Rodney croaked out, "Eureka," and pulled an almost fully-charged ZPM from the foot of the altar.

On their way back home, sans one thermos but plus one ZPM and a blissed-out McKay, John made a mental note to order at least a case of Rodney's special blend.

After all, Pegasus was a pretty dangerous place.

 

_End._


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